


At Last

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Co-workers, F/M, Happy Birthday, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27526267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Percy is wondering if today is The Day. The Day he finally does something about his feelings for Hermione Granger.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Percy Weasley
Comments: 48
Kudos: 73
Collections: dissendium to dreams





	At Last

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamsofdramione](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofdramione/gifts).



> Happiest of birthdays to you, friend! You're an incredible beta-reader and woman!! and I hope you have such a happy day!  
> Beta credit to Blessedindeed for this bit of co-worker pining. Thank you, so much, friend! All remaining errors are my own.

* * *

“It’s a simple Tuesday afternoon. Just another ordinary Tuesday. After lunch Tuesday. Nothing out of the ordinary. Another afternoon at work. You’re just doing your job. That’s all this is. Your job.” 

He’s muttering to himself and he hates it. He’s muttering and pacing in his office. There will be permanent damage to the wood flooring soon if he continues to maintain this daily ritual of pacing while muttering. 

It’s a ridiculous habit. Insufferable. 

He should stop. _Needs_ to stop. 

Needs to

Get

A 

Ruddy 

Grip. 

He is Percy Weasley and it’s not like he _hasn’t_ dated before. Not that he’s thinking of dating now. 

_Liar_. 

He loosens a sharp breath, dragging a hand through his hair. Then scratches the back of his neck—because, apparently, it’s not enough to pinch the bridge of his nose as he sighs over his fate this afternoon. 

He can do this. He knows he can. There was Penelope at Hogwarts, then that brief interlude with Ms. Parkinson… But even that was a while ago now. 

And none of what’s been before compares to… well, _now_. 

To eighteen months of working closer with Hermione Granger. _The_ Hermione Granger. His little brother’s ex. The one even Charlie declared to be “a right looker” before he declared himself to be “too old” and “too set” in his bachelor ways. 

Whatever. 

The point is: this madness has to stop. 

He can’t keep pacing and muttering. Can’t continue cataloging every word, gesture, look, nod, smile, and handshake as pros or cons for finally _saying_ something. 

He should. 

He really should. 

And maybe he will. 

Maybe… maybe today is the day. 

* * *

He’s in her office now, and he’s knows it’s not. 

The Day, that is. 

Because they’re fighting. 

Well. Not really _fighting_. Theodore, her office mate, has coughed things that sound suspiciously like “flirting” and “foreplay”, but it’s neither of those. 

It’s bliss—to Percy, at least. 

Hermione has this crinkle to her face when she’s passionate about paperwork. Her eyes flame and flair. Percy would swear on Godric’s grave that the flecks of gold in her eyes would set him on fire if he were close enough. 

And her voice…

Little red hearts float over her head as her shrill protest rings about the office. 

“This is pointless bureaucracy and you know it.” 

“Whether it is or not, I’m not at liberty to determine.” He presses his lips into a thin line as he holds the file out in the space between them. “In the case regarding Cornish Pixies, the Wizengamont has asked that you provide supplemental information.” 

“Well, I’m not.” She folds her arms over her chest, magic crackling in her wild curls. “They’re digging. Digging and pushing for more evidence to treat them as lesser beings then fairies, which means they’ll never be given the benefit of the doubt or be trust in the eyes of Wizarding Law, and I will not be part of this.” 

She isn’t wrong. Percy knows she isn’t. 

Still…

He clears his throat. Lifts a single brow at her. “Would you rather they throw out the case altogether?” 

“No! I just… argh!” She growls, obviously angry now. Her face falls into her hands, loose curls spilling around her shoulders and head. A frustrated silence falls over them, one that Percy isn’t certain he’s brave enough to break first. Not this time at least.

Not when he has other things on his mind he’s wondering if he should discuss or inquire or—

“I hate all the loopholes they find and add.” Her head jerks up and he’s yanked from his quagmire of questions and wonderings. That flailing fire in her eyes has settled into a quiet flame. Strong and determined. “I hate every last stumbling block those old crones dig up to block the way for rights and representation for Magical Creatures.” 

“I know.” 

“I hate that I have to beat them at their own game by playing their own game.” 

He gives a slight shrug. “I know that, too.” 

“Fine. I’ll supplement it with my own report.” She snatches the file from his hand, flicking it open with more attitude than he would have believed possible. But then again, she’s Hermione Granger, and anything is possible with her. “I’ll take this only because I need to study it to know what information to provide and what to leave out. 

“Of course.” There’s sand in his mouth and he can’t form more words. He swallows hard. “I’m sorry, Hermione.” 

She makes a sound that he takes to be a scoff. Given that she’s squinting at the paperwork in the file, he’ll take that as his cue to leave. 

Although…

Merlin help him. He’s seeing those hearts fluttering about again, and this is a nightmare. She’s so beautiful in all of her determined glory. She’s a bulwark of strength and wit and beauty and cleverness, and he just wants her to know that he knows she’s special and can change things for the better in the Wizarding world. Beyond all she did in the past with Harry and Ron… 

He needs to leave. Now. 

She’s in no mood to be asked to tea or coffee, much less dinner. Her attention is already fully on the paperwork she’s taken from him. 

“Memo me when you’re ready for me to pick it up, Hermione.” He turns on his heel, back straight in stiff resolution. “Have a pleasant afternoon.” 

He’s equal parts sinking and relieved. Sinking over another day of pining in silence. Relieved he’s maintained a level of dignity, and—

“Percy, wait.” 

He does. Wait, that is. He’s halfway to her office door and he’s waiting. 

Because she asked him to. 

_Why did she ask him to wait?_

He turns halfway around in time to watch her draw a sharp breath. One he feels as much as she does. 

She closes the file and levitates it to her desk. “You do know that I honestly enjoy every opportunity I have to see you, yes?” 

Actually, he didn’t. 

Hoped, yes. Prayed for it, certainly. 

But _know_ …

He licks his lips. “It’s nice to hear you say it now.” Honesty. Good. Very good then. “I worry I’ve become a nuisance at best in your eyes.” 

“No. Not at all.” She makes a soft chuckling sound, and her smile is… it’s sweet. Kind. She moves towards him now, fingers laced together over her navy skirt. “Is there a worst case scenario worry? If nuisance is best, is there a worst?” 

“The enemy.” His throat bobs, and that insufferable sand has returned. “I change what I can and sometimes succeed in convincing the Wizengamot they’re being unreasonable, but you know how they are.” 

“I do. I expect it of them. Welcome it even.” 

She’s right up to him now. Sharing space and air with him. He thinks another step from either of them and he’d feel the warmth of her breath on his chin… Maybe he’d have to lean down for that. ( _Would she let him lean down? Would she want him to?)_

“It’s nothing personal,” he says, voice huskier and more strained than anticipated. “It’s… just—“

“It is.” That crinkling around her eyes returns, but in a smile that looks teasing now. Teasing and full of mischief he’d very much like to be in on. “They’ve never forgiven me for helping Harry when they all wanted Harry out of the picture before fifth year, and it’s all very personal now that I’m actually in a position to make the changes I’ve always dreamed of making.” 

“Oh.” He doesn’t know what to say to that. She could very well be right—no. She probably is. 

She saves him from making a liar or a fool of himself though. 

Saves him and slays him. 

Because she takes his hand. 

The world stops. Air freezes in his chest. 

Hermione Granger is now beaming at him. Beaming and blushing and holding his hand with hers. 

She says, “I just don’t mind them for it all because it means I’m getting to them. I’m doing my job right, and the more irritated they are, the more they send you to me.” She gives a light squeeze to his hand. “And I like seeing you Percy.” 

“Y-you do?” he croaks. _Croaks!_

“Yes, I do.” She licks her lips now, eyes dropping to their touching hands, then lifting back to his, a question there now that wasn’t there before. “May I see more of you?” 

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.” 

“Outside of this? Of work and the Ministry?” 

“Yes,” he rushes, breathy and full of warmth and hope. “Yes, you may. We may. Anytime you’d like.” 

“Okay.” Her grip changes. Tightens. Boldness. “And is this gesture of romantic tendencies… it’s… all right?” 

“Formal of you. Very formal, but yes.” He drops her hand only so he can turn around and face her completely now. And slide his fingers between hers in both hands now. “Perfect actually.” 

“Good.” Her eyes don’t leave his. 

He doesn’t look away. “Good.” 

There was work and the rest of the day. Percy doesn’t recall any of it, though. It’s all a hazy blur of meaningless nothing when compared to holding hands with Hermione. 

And knowing he’s going to have dinner with her after work. 

After eighteen months… at last. 


End file.
